Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Chad and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Junior Murvin to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Bizarre Inc.. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Monks,
Symarip,
David Bowie,
Goldenarms,
Wings,
Can,
Peter & Gordon,
Yaz,
Alphaville,
Nico,
Pole,
Lindisfarne,
Arab on Radar,
Aaron Thompson,
Piero Umiliani,
Gerry Rafferty,
ABBA,
The Litter,
David McCallum,
Rufus Thomas,
The Martian,
Sonny Sharrock,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kerri Chandler,
Ronnie Foster,
Hoover,
The Divine Comedy,
The Cowsills,
The Electric Prunes,
The Victims,
Blossom Toes,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Malaria!,
Half Japanese,
The Invisible,
Brass Construction,
Gang Green,
Easy Going,
The Detroit Cobras,
Brand Nubian,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Modern Lovers,
Radio Birdman,
Massinfluence,
Silicon Teens,
Cecil Taylor,
Mo-Dettes,
Negative Approach,
The New Christs,
Donald Byrd,
Matthew Halsall,
Rapeman,
Bill Near,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Blackbyrds,
The Real Kids,
PIL,
Stereo Dub,
The Doors,
Soft Machine,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.